


Holly, Snow, and Mistletoe

by spare



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Banana Fish Secret Santa 2018, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, some AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spare/pseuds/spare
Summary: “So what you're saying is, if we're caught under these—” Eiji's gaze darts doubtfully to the mistletoe, then back to Ash, “we have to kiss? Seriously?”“It's tradition,” Ash insists. “You know, for good luck.”***5+1 fluffy Christmas vignettes with Ash and Eiji.





	Holly, Snow, and Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> This is my _Banana Fish Secret Santa 2018_ gift fic for @moonlighlark on Twitter. Happy Holidays! 5+1 Ash/Eiji Christmas vignettes.

**#1: Christmas Decorations for Chang Dai**

“ _Can_ you even reach it, 'big bro'?” Ash asks from below him, delivering it in that amused, deliberately needling tone that never fails to drive Eiji up the wall.

Or the stepladder, as the current case may be, helping hang holly and other holiday decorations in Chang Dai in time for the yuletide season... If he could reach high enough to affix the darned things, that is.

Which he should be able to. Absolutely.

“Of course I can.” Eiji huffs this as much to himself as to Ash. So saying, he takes another step up the ladder and stretches his arms out, determined to deck the restaurant's halls, as the song goes, with his first holly bough. The scant few centimeters Ash has on him are _nothing_. If he could just—

“Eiji!”

Too late, Eiji finds he's over-reached himself. He stumbles mid-rung, and, unable to regain his footing, comes tumbling backfirst off the ladder and onto—

Something softer than the floor, fortunately.

“ _Ow!_ Damn!”

Or maybe _un-_.

Eiji immediately rolls off of Ash's supine form on the floor. “Gome— sorry about that,” he babbles out, almost forgetting to speak in English. He offers a hand to help Ash up, notices it's the one still clutching the holly bough, and quickly trades it for the other.

Ash accepts it and gets up gingerly, asking, “Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?”

“ _Mou,_ worry more about yourself, you dummy,” Eiji chides, hurriedly looking over Ash for any injuries. He sighs in relief when he finds none.

“Nothing's broken, thank God,” Ash confirms, dusting himself off. “I was only caught off-guard; I didn't think you'd be _that_ heavy.”

“Cheeky brat,” Eiji sourly returns, cheeks puffed. “At any rate, you should've moved away.”

“And let you fall?”

“You're not a landing mat.”

“I don't know,” Ash smirks and shrugs. “I _may_ just like having you on top of me.”

Feeling his face grow warm, Eiji brandishes the holly between them. “Less flirting, more decorating, Ash.”

***

**#2: Caught Beneath the Mistletoe**

It's pure coincidence, Ash would swear this up and down, but there's a delighted twinkle in the younger man's eye that prompts Eiji to regard him—and the bundle of green leaves and white berries hanging oh-so-conveniently above their heads—with not inconsiderable suspicion.

“So what you're saying is, if we're caught under these—” Eiji's gaze darts doubtfully to the mistletoe, then back to Ash, “we have to kiss? Seriously?”

“It's tradition,” Ash insists. “You know, for good luck.”

“Uh-huh,” deadpans Eiji, hands on hips, staring up at Ash through narrowed, disbelieving eyes. “You sure you're not making that up?”

“Why would I?” Ash scoffs, then backpedals at Eiji's delicately lifted brow. “Look, you can google it if you want. Bet you a fiver every single source'll say I'm right.”

“Very well then, fine,” Eiji relents. Best get it over with. “But only one kiss, all right?”

“On the mouth,” adds Ash.

“Yes, yes,” Eiji nods. “On the mouth.”

Ash's mouth quirks. “And with tongue, too. Plenty of it.”

“You're really pushing it, aren't you?” Eiji mock-sighs, trying—and failing, miserably—to stifle a smile. “Just come on already.” He rises up on his toes, both hands cradling either side of Ash's face, and plants a kiss right on his boyfriend's lips. With tongue, as requested. It's short but infinitely sweet; when they draw apart, Eiji finds Ash's resultant blush and the dazed, patently bewildered look in those green eyes most gratifying.

Even more gratifying is the way Ash whispers his name, the blond's voice hoarsened by longing. “Eiji.”

“Ash,” Eiji whispers back. His own voice has gone thick as well—no surprise there—and he's likely grinning like a fool, but he doesn't give a damn. It's only Ash who matters in that moment, in that instant. “You can always kiss me whenever you want, you know,” he goes on. “No need for props or your weird American 'traditions'.”

“Hey, it's _wonderful_ , not weird,” Ash corrects, his smile as welcome as winter sunlight. His hand resettles itself at the small of Eiji's back, regardless, and he leans forward to claim another kiss.

Eiji is more than happy to oblige.

***

**#3: Holiday Feast**

Done with decorating, the evening finds them at the Wongs' second floor family apartment for dinner.

“Cing, cing; eat up!” enjoins Shorter magnanimously, sweeping a hand towards the impressive array of dishes laid out on the table. “You won't find better Chinese this side of Chinatown! In all of New York, even!”

“We know; it's printed on the shirts you handed out,” Ash monotones back. Indeed, the white t-shirts Shorter had urged them to wear proudly proclaimed **CHANG DAI HANTEN ~ CHINESE FOOD ~ BEST IN TOWN** in large aqua and red script. In between these and the restaurant's contact details is the stylized drawing of a man in red and gold Chinese garb carrying a steaming hot bowl of soup.

Won ton soup, most likely, not unlike the contents of the tureen on the lazy Susan. Completing the savory spread are yang chow fried rice, vegetarian spring rolls, butterfly prawns, the pan-fried pork dumplings called kuo-tai, i.e. 'potstickers', and roast duck with hoisin sauce.

Seeing—and smelling—such a feast, Eiji's stomach gives an anticipatory rumble. He hopes to God Ash, who's sitting next to him, does not hear it.

“Well, it's truthful advertising, isn't it?” Eiji offers with a smile. “Everything looks delicious.”

Sitting across from them, Yut-Lung nods ever so slightly. “The presentation is impeccable, at the very least,” he grudgingly concedes. “One could hardly believe the Cockscomb prepared it.”

“I did, too!” Shorter protests, indignant. “Most of 'em, anyway. Sis left the duck for us in the oven, and the dim sum I cooked from the frozen batches in the fridge.”

Ash looks around. “That said, where _is_ Nadia?”

“Over at the mission house. With Charlie.” Leaning forward, Shorter cups a hand by the side of his mouth and adds, “I think he's finally going to try and propose.”

“A cop for a brother-in-law, huh?” mutters Sing, Shorter and Nadia's younger cousin. The boy seems utterly floored by the idea.

“If Sis'll have him, eh, why not?” Shorter shrugs and smiles serenely. To hear him speak, one would think he _hadn't_ given one Officer Charles Dickinson of the NYPD the proverbial shovel talk when the latter and his older sister had started dating. He seats himself between Yut-Lung and Sing, picks up a pair of chopsticks, and looks round at the rest of the members of their little dinner party. “Now, are we gonna eat or what?”

They dig in.

Eiji ladles won ton soup and rice into each of his own serving bowls and loads his plate with dumplings, spring rolls, and roast duck. True to the restaurant's reputation, the food are plentiful and bursting with the perfect balance of flavors.

“These are _good_ ,” Eiji exclaims, having just devoured a couple of potstickers.

“Of course they are,” Sing enthusiastically exults. “The Boss is going to be Chang Dai's head chef, don't you know.”

“Well, it's not Suk-Leui's cooking, but it's an admirable second,” Yut-Lung decrees. “I'm actually a little shocked, Shorter Wong.”

Shorter's left eyebrow twitches. “Don't suffer a heart attack on _my_ account.”

“Yeah, you've really outdone yourself with this spread,” Ash chimes in. “Then again, anything's ambrosia compared to that 'natto' thing from the other day.”

Eiji snorts into his soup. “Natto is good for you,” he reminds the blond. “And it's no more bizarre than whatever goes into those 'hotdog' things.”

“At least they're edible!” Ash retorts.

“That's up for debate!” Eiji blurts back.

“Geez, calm down a bit, you two,” Shorter cuts in. “Seriously, you bicker like an old married couple.”

“Age aside, they practically _are_ ,” Yut-Lung points out helpfully.

“Jealous?” Sing asks.

A scoff. “Hardly.”

But there's an ache in Yut-Lung's chest as he looks on at the soft, fond way Eiji looks at Ash, and vice versa, even in the midst of an argument.

Heart burn, he decides. Only heart burn.

***

**#4: Snowman**

“Do you get this much snow?” Ash idly inquires, casting a sidewise glance at Eiji. “In your hometown, 'Gizmo', I mean.”

“'I-zu-mo',” Eiji corrects automatically, patting down a snowball the size of a watermelon over an even bigger 'base'. “And kind of, I guess? Late December is usually the worst it gets, but we rarely have snowdrifts disrupting power lines or traffic.”

“Huh.” Ash looks down at the powdery white ground, appearing to consider this. Then he bends forward, his gloved hands deftly scooping up and molding a fresh ball of snow. He presents it to Eiji once it's about as large as a bowling ball. “This ought to be big enough for the head, right?”

Eiji nods. “It'll do, yes.”

Together, they prop up this latest snowball on top of the first two, completing the basic structure of their three-tier snowman. Thereafter they quickly set about decorating it: black bottlecaps for the eyes, twigs for arms, an orange sealed paper cup and a navy blue shoestring for the nose and mouth, respectively. With a red and white Santa hat and a green Nori-Nori muffler, Eiji soon takes a commemorative picture of the first snowman he's ever built in New York City. (And _with his boyfriend,_ too.)

“What are you grinning around all weird for?” Ash asks, looking nonplussed.

_Um._ “N-nothing,” Eiji sheepishly replies, quickly putting away his phone. His own eyes have misted over with tears for some strange reason. “It's just, I'm feeling so happy right now, I could just about burst.”

“Don't.” Ash snorts back a laugh, taking Eiji's hand in his and squeezing it, gently. “It'll be one hell of a mess if you do.”

“Haha, yeah,” Eiji agrees, squeezing back. Even through the gloves he fancies he could feel the warmth of Ash's hand; the steady pulse of his heart beating strong and sure beneath his fingers.

_Forever,_ Eiji thinks. It is a promise as much as a prayer.

***

**#5: Christmas Market in Izumo**

The Izumo Christmas Market of 2018 consists of no less than a dozen stalls set up along the tree-lined promenade in front of Izumoshi Station. Most are for food and drink, predictably: hot chocolate, Yule cake and stollen from the local bakeries, mulled wine and cider from the local breweries, deep-fried clam 'popcorn', roasted potatoes, candy in all sorts of sizes and shapes, and last, but most definitely not the least, that longtime staple of Christmas dinners in Japan, fried chicken.

There's a stall selling glass reindeer, papier-mâché elves and ceramic angels; another showing off snowglobes and colorful little lantern houses. One store displays a cozy array of hats and scarves and genuine lambswool mittens; while Christmas-themed pins and bracelets and rings could be found on the shop right across it.

And then there's the garapon stand, a.k.a. lottery wheel, where, for a mere one hundred yen, one could try one's luck with the octagonal box to win a prize. Said prize is determined by the color of the ball that falls out after turning the lottery wheel.

Beginner's luck holds for Ash; he gets a silver ball on his first attempt, netting him one of the better rewards in the roster.

The woman manning the stall is all smiles as she hands Ash his prize. “Here you go!” she pronounces in careful English. “Congratulations!”

“Doumo,” Ash just as carefully replies, gracing the lady with a devastatingly disarming smile. It brings a blush to her face and stars dancing in her eyes.

Even Eiji's own heart skips a beat, for all that he _really_ ought to be inured to Ash's good looks by now. This is the same guy who's afraid of _pumpkins_ , he reminds himself sternly. The same dork who literally falls asleep on his morning bowl of salad. The same _jerk_ who's got the gall to tell him to go watch Sesame Street, and all because he couldn't read the English newspaper fast enough; although the shoe's quite on the other foot now, is it not? What with Ash deciding to spend Christmas with him in Japan.

“What's this yellow lion thing supposed to be, anyway?” Ash has queried in the meantime, holding up the prize he's just won from the garapon: a bright yellow plush strap of a vaguely feline, cartoonish creature wearing a roof-shaped helmet/hat.

“That's Shimanekko,” Eiji answers at last. “As the name suggests, it's the yuru-chara—the official tourism mascot—of Shimane prefecture, of which Izumo is part of.”

“Huh.” Ash peers at the strap with new eyes. “And here I thought the mascot would be that 'Mori-Mori' bird you like so much.”

“It's _Nori-Nori_ ,” Eiji rejoins with a wistful sigh. “But yeah, Nori-Nori would've been an awesome yuru-chara.” He examines his own lottery wheel prize: a Christmas-tree-shaped gingerbread cookie with green and white marzipan frosting and lemon gum drop stars. It's almost _too_ pretty to eat, but Eiji offers it to Ash anyhow. “You can have this, too, if you like.”

“Oh?” Ash arches a fine blond eyebrow. “Passing off free candy as a Yuletide present now, are you?”

Eiji harrumphs. “If you don't want it—”

“But I do.” So saying, his boyfriend plucks the Christmas cookie from Eiji's hand. “Thanks,” Ash utters in earnest. “You're so very kind, 'oniichan'.”

_... Then again,_ Eiji appends, warmth blooming in his chest, _this is the same guy who makes me fall in love with him all over again, for more times than I could ever count._

“I-it's just a cookie, Ash,” Eiji returns, then coughs. “But anyway, you're welcome.”

***

**#6: Gifts**

“Will they even like these?” Eiji wonders aloud, looking dubiously at the pile of gift-wrapped boxes currently crammed inside an even larger cardboard shipping box. 'They' being Skip, Alex, Bones, and Kong, and all the rest of the gang back in New York City. 'These' being an assortment of candy dispensers, capsule toys, dancing Santa dolls, and other such knick-knacks, all competently packaged up in gilt and ribbons.

“ _Now_ you ask?” Ash rhetorically rejoins beside him. “I get that you did promise them 'something interesting' from Japan, but this—” The blond waves a hand at the tinsel-threaded heap, “—is pretty much overkill, don't you think?”

It pretty much is. But Eiji being older (though evidently not wiser), he would rather climb into the shipping box and express-deliver himself to New York than admit it. “Well, you were there as well, weren't you?” he oh-so-maturely pouts. “I don't recall you doing anything to stop me.”

“I know better than to try,” Ash returns wryly.

“You would,” Eiji says, tiredly massaging his temple. “I guess another round of shopping is in order. And this time, I'll ask the guys what they really like.”

He fumbles for his phone to start doing just that when Ash speaks again.

“What about you?”

Eiji blinks. “Me?”

“What do _you_ want for Christmas, Eiji?” Ash clarifies. The man's piercing green eyes hold Eiji's gaze for a moment, then abruptly—shyly, even—looks off to the side. On both of Ash's high, aristocratic cheekbones, two spots of color could be perceived.

Feeling his heart swell, Eiji swallows before repeating the question. “What do I want?”

“Yes.”

_You._

But just uttering it would be too easy; too cheap. So instead Eiji beams enigmatically at Ash, and says, “Guess.” Then he leans over, drawing close to the one man he'll ever love, and claims his holiday gift of a kiss.

_Being right here with you, Aslan,_ Eiji thinks. _That's all I could ever want._

~The End~


End file.
